Grounded
by Blaze6
Summary: Short little sleep piece. G/S
1. Default Chapter

Title: Grounded  
  
Author: Blaze  
  
Summary: Short little sleep piece. G/S  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any copyrighted anything in this fic.  
  
Feedback: Positive/constructive.  
  
A/N's: I wrote this at 12:33 am, while trying to sleep, but it didn't make it to my computer until 7:21 pm, then it's not posted until 7 am. (the twenty-nine hour story). Thank you, Devanie, for putting up with my shit. How's this for a peace offering? G Anyway, I (again) have not had this beta'd, blah blah blah. Who's who? No clue. G Enjoy!  
  
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There is something intrinsically magical about watching you sleep.  
  
Your lids closed tight over curious eyes, the blanket pulled up around your shoulders, the peace and innocence of a newborn on your face. You lose your edge when you drift over from this world to the next, and it may be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  
  
Here in the darkness of mid-afternoon, on clean sheets and easy breaths, you stretch and turn, murmur something about cheese, caught deep in a dream I can only guess about.  
  
And all I want is to climb into that dream and share.  
  
We are not yet at the point in our tumultuous past-and-future story where we can safely dream together. We may never be. So I still dress to leave, but I'll be damned if a night goes by where a little hitch in your breathing doesn't make me turn and watch.  
  
Sometimes your name passes my lips, a whispered confirmation of sleep, and I know one of these nights you're going to murmur an answer, a plea. But until then, you will continue to trap me in this enchanting and mystical incredulity, if only for a moment to store the image for my drive home.  
  
The others would be astonished at your transition. I am sure they assume you sleep with the same blank emotionalism you have while you're working; I am sure they do not see your naiveté.  
  
What a surprise it would be to them to see you the way I do. Would they stop in their tracks and stare, mouths dropping slightly as they were overcome by the sensational charm you exude as you wander peacefully through your personal slumber-realm, the way I do? Would the sight take away their breath, catch their hearts in their throat, make them want to reach out a finger to trace that nobody's-perfect face and eyes and hair?  
  
You nearly kill me with awe.  
  
The clock counts the seconds I stand here at the door, each quiet tick a mark towards my eventual betrayal, a mark towards the moment I don't leave. Not tonight, but soon. I can feel the moment coming, slowly but surely, and it is like hearing your smile, at once completely possible and wholly impossible.  
  
I could not be more a part of you right now if I tried. I could not feel more affection for you at this moment without bursting. The decision to go is becoming harder and harder the longer I am here, the more afternoons we spend here.  
  
Who would've imagined you are more you as you walk into the ethereal world between sleep and dreams? You are so deep-seated in reality that it borders on bizarre that you are more at home in this place, have always been more at home in sleep.  
  
And I love you for it.  
  
An arm swings over into the space I have abandoned, the first time in all the times I've watched you that you've done this, and your face narrows in confusion. Your eyes stay shut as my name plays out a mumble on your lips, and my heart stops. A content exhalation pushes the fabric of your pillow, you draw your arm back to your body, murmur, "Come back to bed."  
  
I can hear your smile. 


	2. Chapter Two

Toe to heel, a slight push, and your foot, encased in a dark sock the last time I saw it, is free. A quick repetition leaves both shoes resting empty next to each other, and as quietly as you can-you've assumed I've drifted back to dreams-you drape your light jacket over them. I can see the pile of clothes in my mind, neat and orderly, nothing like the haphazard trail we created earlier. You shouldn't have any trouble finding them in the never-quite-dark night, not like you did a few minutes ago.  
  
Maybe I should tell you the floorboards in front of the couch squeak under the weight of leaving footsteps.  
  
Maybe next time I'll be more careful about where your clothes land.  
  
A contented hum escapes me as the bed dips slightly and your lips find my shoulder for an instant. This is the unlikely duo of New and Familiar, and I have to admit I like it. A lot.  
  
You've been in this bed before. You've kissed me before. You've watched over me before.  
  
You've never stayed before. I know you've wanted to, the way your breath catches and your heart stops when you turn to go gives you away. You'd like to watch me dream forever.  
  
Sometimes, when no one else is around, I catch a reverence in your eyes, a piercing wonder you'd never admit to. A fire, a glow. Heartrending if I saw it directed at anyone else. As if there is something so wonderful in me it could make you cry.  
  
I haven't figured it out yet. But it must be something grander than your ever-present thirst to see me dream. It must be.  
  
Your shifting form provides an exit for the ephemeral wisps of my memories, and the sounds of "You awake?" tickles my ear.  
  
You speak of doubts and niggling fears, of your frustrations and losses, why you wish you'd never met me and why you wish you'd never stayed. You tell me how your intentions have changed, about your jealousies and mine, times you should have followed your heart, and how you truly hate to be alone. Times you should've said more, said less, said nothing at all. When you should've listened and when you should've let well enough alone. When you've thought more with your heart than with your mind. Your biggest regrets and the things you'll never forget. Circumstances where you've chased your own dreams away, where love has gotten old, where you've been hurt by not feeling hurt. Places you've never been and place you wish you could go back to.  
  
Only your silence touches me; your soul penetrating deep into mine without so much as a glance of the pads of your fingers on my skin. You have just said more in two words than anyone has said in a lifetime.  
  
And I am not sure whose voice cuts through the murky darkness of a sunset and says, "Always." Not sure what we have just promised ourselves to. Not sure about anything but being with you.  
  
This is you being me being you. This, in the space and time of three words, has become real.  
  
This I like. A lot.  
  
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A/N's: Heh. I wrote more. Don't know why. Some things just need to be said. G I have to thank Devanie for absolutely everything, but especially listening to all my whining about, well, everything. Thank you, thank you, thank you! 


End file.
